Phantomess
by MelissaRed56
Summary: Based on Susan Kay’s “phantom” written as a sequel. To those who knew of what unfolded in the end of Erik’s story, eleven years later a child will be born to face the same cruel fate as he and follow a very similar path. Better summary inside. rated M
1. Part one: Sophia

**Summary: **Based on Susan Kay's "phantom" written as a sequel. To those who knew of what unfolded in the end of Erick's story, eleven years later a child will be born to face the same cruel fate as he. Join her as she similarly follows her grandfather's footsteps almost from beginning to end in search of beauty and knowledge and uncovering a secret past. If you do not know what lies in the past, then you are doomed to repeat it…

**An:** alright, I feel a bit guilty for making a new fic when I have many others that are in progress, but I had to get this one out or I might have never got it started. Firstly, I'd just like to say that this fic is based all on Susan Kay's "Phantom" and it also is kind of like a sequel to it. This is a lot like her story except its about Erik's granddaughter who ends up being born with a very similar disfigurement and has to face life's harshness and cruelty as she journeys around the world, just like the phantom did, in search of knowledge and beauty. I dont want to say much else because i dont want to give anything away but as I said this is like Susan Kay's book, except for different characters and new places and themes. Otherwise it will seem very similar.

I always except advice to make my stories better so don't think your flaming me or anything just because you do that. (Except for grammar, please don't advise me about that because I already know its bad and I'm lazy lol).

secondly, I must say this is rated M for mature for language, violence, possibly sexual themes, and whatever else ends up later on.

And lastly:

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for my own characters and themes. Everything else belongs to Susan Kay.

I hope you enjoy

**Phantomess**

Part 1: Sophia

England

1908-1920

I let out a great moan of pain as the midwife directed me hastily, yet diligently, towards the bed. The birth had come unexpectedly and I was greatly unprepared.

"Close the doors will you!" I faintly heard the midwife say to one of the house servants, " and bring me a bowl of water and towels, hurry!"

There were then many actions taking place within and out of the bedchamber. House servants were rushing out and in of the room as the midwife seemed to prepare for the birth.

Once everything was in order she commanded all of the servants out of the room as if this was a life or death situation.

This made me smile for an instant, for this was to be my third child and I was very familiar with all that must be done and was not at all worried. By the looks of the midwife, however, she seemed quite edgy.

This was strange to me for she had helped to give birth to my sons. Her name was Catharine. She was a stout woman who looked to be around mid- fifties. I was acquainted with her when I was pregnant with my first son, Charles. Now, after two births she and I had formed a small, innocent friendship and I admired her self-assurance.

"Alright madam, when I say, I need you to push." She said somewhat quietly as she washed her hands in the bowl.

Sweat had already begun to drip through my hair and around my body. I had the usual aching feeling that I had before when I was pregnant and I drew out slow, steady breaths.

At that instant, I wished deeply that my dear husband, Charles, were here with me. I was used to holding his reassuring hand in a tight grip by my side.

But now, there was no reassuring hand. The only thing I could grip onto was the bed sheet under me. My eyes began to form tears as I thought of my husband and how he would want to be here now seeing another child of ours being born. What I would give to see his handsome, smiling face again.

But now I was alone, except for Catherine.

"Alright you can begin to push now." The midwife said grabbing hold of a towel.

I began to take much quicker breaths and then pushed with all my might.

Within a couple of minutes the baby was more the half way out. My hair was now completely drenched in sweat and I continued to hold the covers in a death grip.

" Your almost there, keep pushing!" Catharine said in an exasperated tone. She also had begun to sweat as well.

The whole room was burning with steaming heat coming from the candles that flickered nearby. The room was quite dark, only enough light for the midwife to see.

I knew that everyone was waiting outside the door for the news of my newborn child. My sons, Charles and Raymond were in the crowd as well, awaiting the coming of their new sibling.

Thinking of them seemed to calm me a bit until the mid wife gave out a small, yet joyful, cry.

" Oh it's a girl! You're having a girl my lady! Now its just the head my dear, do exactly as I say and push."

Shoving away the fact I now had a daughter aside for the moment, I gave one last fierce push.

With a sigh of relief, the pain in my body finally subsided into a calmer feel as I again started to take slower, smoother breaths. My heart had slowed from a great pounding into a more rhythmic pattern.

I laid there for sometime in bleak exhaustion thinking how wonderful it was to finally be released from a nine-month pregnancy. I then remembered Catherine saying I had a daughter.

I smiled softly, and joyful tears began to form in my eyes. Finally a daughter!

I had wanted a daughter for sometime, but when my second birth came producing a son, I had almost lost hope. Charles had no problem with this, for he had wanted a son. Once, however, we were to expect our third child I immediately beilieved it must be the daughter that I wanted.

I escaped from my thoughts, however, to a sudden unfamiliar silence that I never heard before when giving birth.

When I had given birth to my two sons there had been screaming cries coming from their little mouths and Catharine would be congratulating me for my newborn child and carrying them genteelly to the side of the bed for me to look upon there small red, faces.

But, noticing no noise what so ever, I felt something must be wrong. I sat up, opening my eyes in the dim light to look up at the midwife.

Her face had gone quite pale and her eyes were as wide as the china plates we used at dinner. Her eyes seem to be glazed over as if her mind where trying to block out whatever terrifying sight she had been brought to.

In some strange instinct I put my hand to my mouth in horror.

_Oh god my baby was dead…. my daughter is dead…_

This sudden thought was taken back, however, by a soft whimpering cry unlike anything I could imagine hearing from a new born.

With some relief I settled back down on the bed.

" Catharine, what's wrong? Is something wrong with the baby?" I heard myself say. I couldn't see the baby for Catharine had put her in a blanket.

The midwife seemed to have not heard me or rather; she was not able to respond. This made me even more nervous.

" Please! Tell me what is wrong! Let me see my baby!" I shouted a little louder then I wanted to. I was beginning to feel very dizzy and disoriented from the heat inside the room and wished very badly that someone would open a window, but more importantly I wanted to see my child.

" Please Mrs.," I heard Catherine whisper, "Please…I… I rather you didn't."

I was becoming very irritated. Catharine had never acted this way in front of me before and I had never expected her to. This came as a very big shocker, but friend or not she would hand over my daughter. As long as she wasn't dead I didn't care.

I stretched out my hands towards the midwife. "What has come over you Catharine? You must let me see her. She is alright isn't she?"

The midwife then seemed to choke up in silence. At first she started to shake her head, but then stopped herself, still staring in disbelief down at the small bundle in her arms.

" She's quite fine Mrs. Chagny…or so it seems…" The midwife said in a shaky voice. Looking closer at her I could tell she was shaking and she carried the infant farther apart from her has if she was afraid of it. I was almost afraid shed drop it!

" I don't understand…" I said in a harsh and confused tone. This was quite absurd! If Charles were here he would have never allowed such behavior.

As my anger began to build up the midwife seemed to notice this and realized her impertinent behavior. She moved slowly towards the side of the bed as if she were some dark dreary creature of the night. The candles flickered fiercely around me, distorting objects and creating monstrous shapes upon the walls.

I could barley see the midwife's face, but knew by her previous looks that something must be very, very wrong.

I was a practical woman and did not or would not think of the obscurities of the world. I saw things as natural and realistic and because of that I believed everything to be that way.

But when the midwife practically dropped my newborn into my arms my whole out look on life had been completely shattered as if an invisible rock had come smashing down upon it and broken it in an instant.

The shield I had placed in my mind to block ugly or unnatural things had been destroyed in that very instant as the true world I was living in came down right in front of me; A very dark and bleak world….

Nothing I ever believed or could even imagine to be a living creature was what could only be said about my daughter. How could something like this possibly be living?

The creature within my arms began to move softly within, like a large, nasty snake in a coiled sleep. It then turned its head up towards me and stared right at me with what looked like blazing yellows eyes behind deep sockets.

It looked like a corpse, a living, breathing creature with death's head and body. There were also scars running deep through its skin and blue veins popping out from its temples.

A great feeling leapt up inside of me and I began to recognize it not as the usual love I would have felt over a newborn, but an overcoming hatred and fear.

How could someone like me produce something so horrible and menacing! How could Charles' love and mine come out to making a monster!

I began to think on like this for sometime, continuing to stare down at the little demon within my arms as if the devil himself had come and placed it there to taunt me.

The creature did not move for sometime and I almost tried to believe it was dead. But suddenly it began to stretch out its tiny skeletal arms towards my body and grabbed on to a piece of my linen white shirt.

Then, as if I had finally come to terms at what was happening to me I suddenly felt myself go extremely light headed and dizzy.

" Sophia? Sophia! " I heard Catharine say. "Quick! Someone fetch the doctor! And a priest!" She yelled out from the room.

I then heard no more and everything fell into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I finally came to, the first thing I noticed was the unnaturally strange silence within the room. As my eyes finally began to refocus I looked around to find myself lying on my bed with the canopy curtains strung lazily around the sides, blocking my view of the room.

It took me sometime to realize that I must have dozed off after giving birth. I know that I had, had my child for the sense of feeling much lighter and comfortable, with no round, bulky belly standing out when I lay.

I remembered now giving birth to my daughter, but what happened afterwards I could not remember.

Had I passed out after giving birth? That was very unlike me; I had never done that before.

The room was still very dark as from before, but moving aside the canopy curtains I realized that I was not the only one in the room.

Catharine was gone, but there now were three others that moved about within the room and I suddenly realized they were speaking in hushed voices.

I then recognized one of them to be Dr. Brenner, our family doctor. He came over to me and checked my pulse and temperature as if I was some very sick patient.

" How are you feeling Sophia?" He said in a hushed raspy voice as if he had over used his voice.

" I'm fine. Where's my daughter? Is she all right?" I said in a worried tone.

The doctor looked down and pushed his glasses farther up the ridge of his nose.

"She's quite fine. I checked her and she's showing all the normal signs of a healthy newborn…but there's the matter of the…" He stopped as if he didn't know how to put what he was going to say in words.

"The what?" I said nervous and confused. What had happened while I was asleep?

Then everything came back to me in that instant as I heard my daughter make another unnaturally un-child like cry in the front of the room were she lay in a cradle.

Suddenly, remembering everything that had happened after the birth I gave out an ugly little shriek and instantly covered my mouth.

Oh god, the deformity…my daughter was a monster.

The sudden shriek I had stifled out had caused the other two occupants within the room to jump in alarm and swiftly draw closer to my bed.

As the light drifted upon their faces I noticed one to be sister Ingrid, a small petite woman with graying black hair and wrinkly skin and the other to be father Michael who was at least in his mid-fifties with gray light hair and dark gristly skin. His dry raspy hands shook a little while his pale blue eyes looked down upon me in distain.

Sister Ingrid had been clutching the cross that hung around her neck, while Father Michael had a rosary in hand. I then realized that they must have been praying and knew that they must have seen the child.

" Where is Catharine?" I said even though I secretly believed that she was gone for good.

" She is gone Sophia…she left as soon as we came. I'm afraid she wont be coming back." Father said in a low, serious voice.

I nodded my head in acceptance. I did not blame her; I wish she could have taken me with her so I wouldn't have to live with this monstrous burden.

The priest then told me that many of the other servants in my care had gone as well when Catharine left telling them of the demon child I had given birth to. Many of them left in fear, some didn't even take all thier belongings. They were very superstitious people and when hearing this story it must have frighten them out of their wits. I knew none would stay, not even in pity of me.

At that moment I had never felt so alone in my life. All I had now was my poor sons, who would have to deal with the fact that they had a monster for a sister.

Father Michael told me they were waiting in one of the rooms close by for any news of my well being or of the babies. They must have also heard the horrible stories that Catharine had passed around and I knew they must be in such fear and distain that they too would wish to leave and never return.

This brought tears to my eyes for I felt that I had now destroyed my sons' perfectly normal lives. How would they react if they ever saw their horrible abomination of a sister?

I then decided that they never would. I would keep the child away from them so that they would never have fear, so they wouldn't have to be apart of this horrible farce, that I had begun to believe was indelibly my fault.

" I believe that the right thing to do now is to baptize her," Said the father after a moment of silence.

I nodded my head while sister Ingrid got a bowl of water. The priest blessed the water and was about to perform the baptizing until he hesitated.

" She needs a name Sophia…you must give her a name first." The priest said softly glancing at me.

My mind then went completely blank. There were a couple of names that I had thought of; my favorite one was Christine, which was Charles's mother's name. But that didn't seem very right now. I didn't think it very respectful to name the thing after a family member.

So instead I turned to the two others in front of me and told them to name it themselves. They both looked at each other and then Sister Ingrid sighed.

" Erica…after my niece." She said softly, it seemed that in some ways sister Ingrid had took pity upon the creature. She looked down upon it with no revulsion in her eyes. Her fear of the baby must have passed after she had first seen it.

This made me feel somewhat guilty for I was its mother and I could not keep the same feelings as she did.

Father Michael gave one last pause and then crossed the baby with water. "I baptize Erica in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, amen."

The priest then turned away from the infant and looked upon me in a very serious manner.

" You'll take care of the child as you would any other child, Sophie…As it is god's will. You will learn to love her just like you do your sons…you will do this or you will never see the light of heaven. I know what you are thinking and it is forbidden. You must nurture it for the sake of the soul that lies within. There is no other choice."

I looked down at my hands in shame.

Yes, it is true I had thought of taking away the life to which my daughter has now been given, hoping it would be out of mercy. But I was a catholic who believed in the ways very strongly and I knew to take away the child's life was to put my soul to death.

But it felt like the right thing to do. I knew just by looking at her that Erica's life would never be like any other humans. She would be feared and taunted for the rest of her life and eventually she would soon disappear from the world as a spider disappears within the dark cracks of the walls.

I wanted to hide her like that for the rest of her life. Unseen by human eyes, She could become just a dark shade of the past. But I had no right to shut her away even if it were for her protection.

Dr. Brenner who had been sitting silently beside me, watching intently, now finally spoke.

" I wonder, Mrs. Chagny, if I might be able to examine the child for further investigation of its mysterious deformity. There could be a professional surgeon who may be able to help her."

I thought about this for a moment. Why not? If he could find a way to improve her physical features then maybe she would have a better chance at a happier life.

But before I could make a decision, father Michael stepped in.

" I don't believe that is a wise choice." He said harshly. " The child's deformity is so great it could cause many problems and controversies to which she'd have to endure. The child would become to well known that it could cause serious damage. Its better to just leave it, as it is. There really isn't much that can be done. The only thing she'd be put through in life is to become a specimen of scientific study, observed by a great deal of people."

The doctor glanced over at me, but said nothing. Father Michael was right. It was too much of a risk.

I let out a deep sigh of exhaustion and closed my eyes. The child would have very little personal freedoms, for it would have to be protected away from ignorant human eyes. This thought made me realize that the child's life was completely thrust into my care. No English Nanny would possibly have the courage to take care of her.

As for my sons…I wouldn't know what to tell them. I was afraid that they too would be in spite of her. They would not help me either and I could not bring myself to ask them. I was on my own. This was my problem, my burden.

I would never forget the day when Erica was born.

It was the day that changed my life forever.

**AN:**

**To**: _Mrs.Gerald Butler:_ yes i know what you mean and im sorry for, once i wrote it i knew it was kinda confusing and should have edited it, but by the time i had gotten through more then half the story i felt it would have been hard to change it, but ill still try to once I get some of the chapters updated. I was just hoping people might think that the miwife had just noticed that the baby was a girl at that time instead of it actually being a breech birth. anyways thank you so much for your review. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I fell in love with Charles the first time I met him.

It was at a performance party acknowledging the great triumph of his famous debut, as a well-known pianist, through out London and much of Europe.

He was considered a great prodigy to many who knew him, and he had been performing since he was only sixteen. I had met him from his father, the viscount de Chagny, who was greatly acquainted with my own father.

My father, however, was closer to Charles, who was a student of his at the English boarding school to which he had been educated at. My father was a music teacher there and was the one who encouraged Charles amazing talent.

Charles admired my father deeply and invited him to all of his performances. I however, did not decide to go to one of them until I had come home from the school I had been at. A music and art school for ladies just outside of London.

I have loved music ever since I was a little girl. Every day my father would practice with me for an hour with my own private lessons. I had always wanted to become a singer. Music was my life and I strived everyday to become better then I was before.

My father was an enthusiastic man who believed that I would eventually exceed my dreams. He never hesitated to help and encourage me and I knew he was proud to have a daughter so interested in the genera of music as he was.

Every couple of months he would take me to a play or musical performance and each time my eyes would light up in intense inspiration, while my father would watch me and smile silently.

Once I had gone off to music school the performances we went to together lessened, but every time I came back home on holiday he'd take up that time to give me the chance to see another performance I had yet to see.

After going away once again to boarding school, father told me of how he was now teaching a young student who was an amazing pianist and that the next time I came to visit I must come to one of his performances.

I, of course, could not deny my Fathers request and so, when I once again came back home, I willing accepted my father's invitation to see the famous Chagny son in his great triumph.

As soon as the performance had come to an end I immediately became intensely infatuated with Charles de Chagny.

He was extremely handsome with soft blue eyes and a beautiful wide grin. He was an amazing pianist, especially for his age. I couldn't deny the fact that I was drawn to him. How could I not be! He was both musically talented and handsome, not to mention comfortably rich, not like that was any of an issue, but it did have its positive sides.

I begged my father to introduce me to him, and eventually he gave in as usual and said that he had been invited over to their house for dinner and he would ask if I might attend as well.

I was giddy with excitement and anticipation. There were many other girls as well who had the same fond feelings towards Charles, but none had the opportunity to actually become acquainted with him as I was to be.

Unfortunately, I could tell my chances with him could be considered a bit slim. For I could tell that he was not an easy catch. There were many other beautiful women who tried foolishly hard to get his attention and he would barely give them a second glance.

I did not believe myself to be a conceited woman, but I did have self-confidence. I rightly knew that I had exceptional beauty, enough for any man to fawn over. Most English girls had an uptight smile and cold pale eyes that matched well with their awfully pale skin and fair hair.

But I was a rare sight, with deep green eyes; soft rosy skin and flowing wavy copper red hair. I believed it was because my mother was part Irish, which was something that many English frowned upon and to which I got many nasty looks for, but it still had its positive sides.

I attended dinner with them that night and within three months Charles and I were engaged.

I knew that, the first time we met, it was clear that we were meant to be. We both showed the same interests and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he admired my beauty. At first it started out as small meetings and an occasional dinners, but are relationship continued to blossom.

Many girls had become lost in envy towards me, but none attempted to get in my way. It was too late for them anyways. By the time Charles and I were to be wed they had given up their antics and went on to pursue another worthy man.

When the news of our engagement came out, everyone came to congratulate us, bringing small gifts in hopes of receiving an invitation to the wedding party. Unfortunately, Charles and I both decided to have a small reception with only family and very close friends. Charles, who had become comfortable around large crowds, was surprisingly not much of a people person. Yes, it's true he had his fair share of friends, but from time to time he'd decline invites to their homes or a night out. Instead he spent much of his time either playing the piano or with his father, Mr. Chagny.

My father thought that perhaps it was because they were French, but I only laughed at his silly joke and said that perhaps Charles liked spending more time with family. His father after all was all that Charles had left.

His mother had died unexpectedly when he was seventeen and he was said to have an uncle, which he rarely ever saw. Other then that Charles's had only his father.

Mr. Chagny was a highly respectable man with a well-known reputation. He was kind towards me and he regarded me with out most respect. I knew that he loved his son very much and there was almost nothing that he would deny him. He went to all of Charles' performances and always encouraged him to do his best.

There relationship was fragile, but close. They would talk to each other like normal grown men, but they still pertained that father- son attitude. It was strange to me, however, how completely different the two of them were to one another.

Charles always had a positive attitude and a care free spirit. He never gave up on anything and rarely ever lost his temper. He was always smiling and easily inspired. He also always tried to make others happy and worry free. Even if something were wrong, he'd hide it from others.

His father however, was quite different. I could see no resemblance what so ever between him and his son and neither that of his personality. He had a handsome face, but it was tarnished and faded by old age even though he was only in his forties. He had grayish gold hair and a coarse beard. His eyes were a pale blue which seemed to reflect a sort of faded light. He had the look of someone who had strained very hard through the years and seemed to be carrying many burdens.

He smiled when he had to and was very courteous towards others. But there was always something about Mr. Chagny that I couldn't quite detect. It always felt like he was hiding something, as if he carried many secrets…

Once Charles and I were finally married we went back to his father's home country of France for the honeymoon, where Charles had gone numerous times as a boy. I had never been there before, but thought it quite a site. The country was warm and welcoming in the summer and held its own unique beauty.

But nothing could prepare me for the sites of the grandest city I ever laid eyes on. London was an ugly stepsister when compared to the beauty Paris.

With its romantic parks and street ways and classical buildings, Paris had quickly become a favorite of mine. As soon as we arrived I wanted to know and see everything and I was lucky to have one of the best guides around.

Charles took me to every famous spot, which he and his father both agreed I must see, from small parlors, to ancient churches, and to many other amazing sites. With Charles by my side in the most romantic city in all of Europe I felt like the luckiest woman.

As our honeymoon drew near to the end, Charles took me to the last site to which I'll never forget. It was the famous Paris opera house where Charles' father had once brought him five years ago.

It was the most beautifully crafted building in all of Paris. It stood in the center of the city like a beacon. A high and mighty building which would take your very breath away and make you want to sing. It took me a second to realize that Charles was speaking to me.

He told me that it was the biggest and most famous opera house in France and it was not only a theater, but also a school for musical study. I had heard brief stories of it from my father when I was younger, but not enough to remember much. It must be amazing to have attended such a school and I was immediately envious of the ones who did.

As me and Charles walked on to the entrance doors I looked up to view a more clear site of its elaborate designs. It was hard to see for it had become later in the day when the sun began to sink below the land. The shadows cast on the statues and stones made it look a bit mysterious and dramatic.

As I looked closer up I could see on the corner of the balcony a statue of a horse with wings.

" I believe my father once told me that my mother knew a man who helped build this building." Charles had said, staring up in the same direction. " I always wished I could have met him. It's so unfortunate that none are alive, but at least there achievement has still stood strong."

I nodded still staring in awe." Yes indeed!" I said. A wind of excitement took over me and, giggling with laughter, I pulled Charles with me hurryingly into the double doors.

The inside was even more amazing then the outside. As Charles took my arm, smiling, we both headed toward the theater.

Charles had reserved his favorite box for the both of us. Box five, where he and his father had sat. The night performance was one I was not entirely familiar with but I enjoyed it just as much. After the night at the opera I made Charles promise me that he would take me again someday and, laughing, he immediately promised and kissed me softly.

Four weeks after, when we finally settled back in England, I was pregnant with my first child.

The pregnancy had come to us unexpectedly seeing as we had not thought nor talked about the idea of having a child. But as circumstances do tend to happen, we did not hesitate to prepare ourselves for the coming of our first newborn.

The first thing we settled on was to find a decent home. The one we lived in now wasn't all bad, but it was in the very heart of London, where streets were jam pact with people and there was very little outdoor space, which I knew we would need.

I then suggested that we move farther out in the country, away from all the noises and stresses of the city air.

I had lived in the country when I was a young girl and had loved the quiet beauty of the small towns and vast meadows that shaped the land. To me it was the perfect place to raise our child.

Charles thankfully seemed content with this idea even though I had feared he wouldn't. I knew that it be the first time he would be away from his father who was always there for him.

But Charles was a responsible young man and his father knew that. It seemed like the right time for Charles to start a life of his own. Charles and his father had a long talk and Charles and I told him he was always invited to stay with us whenever he liked. His father was thankful for this and when we said our last goodbyes at the train station Charles' father did not seem grieved nor moved in any such way and when he left he did not look back.

Charles and I boarded the express to a small town called Whitby, a lovely little town near the sea, north of London.

I fell in love with the place as soon as I arrived. The town stood on small rounded valley, which looked over the sea. The buildings where shaped into the smooth valley and they grew down it until they reached the shore.

Our estate however was the one thing I had been looking forward to ever since me and Charles had found it.

The house was one or two miles away from the town and was placed on a higher peak, which looked down on the town and the sea as well.

It had its own private gardens and even a small field surrounded by a small forest. Beyond the forest the earth became more flat which held farms and harvest fields where many town farmers grew their food.

The house itself was also fantastic. It had made me feel as if I were a little girl again, when I was with my father. It had an older fashion to it, almost Victorian, with brownish red bricks making up the walls and wooded framed windows and doors and a red tiled roof. Vines streamed down the walls and covered the windows. The gardens and field had over grown with weeds and tangled plants, but I knew it would be easy to restore the place in short time.

Inside when you entered, there is a grand staircase, which spirals up to the second story and an inventive chandelier hung in the center of the hall. There are two openings on either side of the hall: One, going to the drawing room on the left and a parlor on the right.

There is a kitchen and dining room in back and a grand library. Upstairs there are several bedrooms and other miscellaneous rooms as well as a balcony to the library.

Although the house was built sometime before its existence, electricity was recently built into the house so it could be of more modern use.

As soon as we arrived we began to settle in. Placing furniture and other such boastful objects in places where they looked the most accurately placed in. Charles' prized piano was placed inside the library while a more older type was placed in the drawing room where I expected my child to practice.

Many other personal belongings of Charles' were brought as well, such as a hefty number of books he had taken out of his home library and, what seemed most important of all, his shaggy little gray dog named Bach.

The dog was cute, with beady eyes and soft fur. But it could also be described as a nuisance, unpredictable and at times, very timid.

When I first laid eyes on it, it did nothing but bark boisterously at me and then run off in hiding. It only seemed to take a liking to Charles, who had saved it from a near death situation while in the streets of Paris. Charles had told me the story once when I visited him at his home. It was while he and his father were headed toward the opera when there carriage had run the poor creature over.

Of course knowing Charles he made sure that the dog would survive and be handled with care, unlike so many I knew who would have left it there to die. Once it was safely cared for he had begged his father to take it home with them instead of taking it to a pound. His father must have argued at first, but knowing him, he would give in to Charles' pleas as he did some many times before.

After that the two were inseparable. Every time I came over the dog would be right there either in Charles' lap or near his feet. I tried to be kind at first, but the beast just wouldn't have it. It would snap at me if I even tried to touch it. Its beady little eyes always looking at me as if I were unjust and not up to its expectations.

Lucky for me it's a boy or else id think the bloody thing was jealous. Although I tried to persuade Charles to keep the dog at his older home he would not see to it. The dog was too close to him and I knew there was nothing I could do.

As we finally had everything settled within our home, we settled down for some evening tea. Bach, with all his curiously had gone off on his own to adventure and take note of his new home.

We settled in more quickly then I expected and after some time we finally decided to take a visit to the town nearby. Charles wanted to get his account affirmed as well as settle everything we needed and assign a new doctor and midwife for my child's care. Once that was taken care of I persuaded him to take me to St. Williams Church so that I may be more acquainted to the services there.

That is where I met Sister Ingrid and father Michael, who both were pleased to have a new member of their parish. From then on I took to attending mass as much as possible, with or without Charles, who was sometimes stubborn.

As the months past we became more and more known and accepted around the area. We made new friends and many considered us role models for a perfect marriage.

As I became closer and closer to giving birth, people would come and bring us gifts for the new born and blessing us and the child with good health. I thanked them for this even though I felt the blessing for a good health was not needed for I knew all was well.

Dr. Brenner, my newly affirmed doctor, would check up on me occasionally and, each time, he would confirm that I was in perfect health. I truly did not need a check up so often for I knew everything was fine.

I thought it funny because my father had told me stories of how excruciating it had been for my mother when she had me. This had made me nervous at first for I was sure id end up like her, but to my unhidden relief, everything was wonderful.

I had almost no pains or aches and I rarely ever had any sickness. I did however, at times have cravings for certain foods, but other then that, there was simply nothing wrong.

The months continued to go by, until a week after my due date I finally gave birth to my first son, Charles.

I thought it fitting to name our first after the father. Charles of course didn't mind, and it seemed the perfect name seeing as he began to resemble much more of his father. He had the same big blue eyes and cheerful smile. His laughter filled the house and seemed to warm it and, best of all, he rarely cried. Even the English nanny we assigned thought it a good sign that he would not be a little troublemaker.

Unfortunately, I could not say the same thing for Raymond…

A year after Charles, Charles and I were bestowed with yet another child. Raymond, unlike his brother, had been a more tricky, and stubborn birth, and as soon as he was able to breath air he did nothing but yell and cry.

It made me feel pity for our nanny who was reduced to insanity as her senses were bashed to pieces by the child's wild cries and immovable tactics.

Although Raymond was difficult I still loved him dearly. When he wasn't crying or screaming id take him from the Nannies care and gently cradle him while he fell asleep just as I some times did with my son Charles.

On those days there could be soft music heard from the piano in the library being played by Charles who practiced daily.

Even after having children, Charles continued to play in front of an audience going back to London or to other parts of Europe. Although he tried not to stay away long, it still would be painfully lonesome without him and when I finally had word that he was near home, id sometimes wait, for what seemed like hours, inside our bedchamber looking out the window with a view of the road leading to our house.

I wished at times that I could join him on his musical quests, but I knew my responsibility was at home with the children. They were too young to be left alone even with a nanny or house servants. I would have to wait until they were older.

Once he returned home I would prepare a magnificent dinner for him and tell him news of what he had been missing at home.

When he once again had to leave for another performance, this time in a city in Belgium, I gave him news that I was expecting yet another child.

Though we may have thought it was enough to have two, Charles was still as joyful as ever. Picking me up and swirling me around I asked how he could be so joyful. He merely laughed and told me he'd gladly have three more and still be as happy as ever. I laughed as well for I should have known that Charles could never be unhappy and I knew I could never be either as long as he was by my side.

I told him how badly I hoped that this time god would grant me a daughter seeing as I already had two sons and had always wanted a girl.

"You'll have your daughter," Charles had said self-assuredly. " And She'll be the most beautiful daughter you've ever had."

I smiled at Charles for I knew he must be right. He was always right.

Now that I had told him of this news he then promised me that he would come home as quickly as possible.

I kissed him goodbye and wished him well and he the same, as well as to the expecting child. He had said he looked forward to coming home and seeing his sons and, soon, his daughter. He pulled his sons into his arms and told them to be good for their mother even though neither one was old enough to speak. He kissed them and then me one last time and headed off.

That was the last time my sons ever saw their father again…

A couple of weeks after Charles had left I had received a letter that proclaimed that Charles had fallen ill and that they were taking him to London to be treated for the current sickness that had somehow spread in his area.

Immediately, I packed a few belongings and, leaving the children to the nanny, I headed off as quickly as I could, to Charles' side.

Knowing nothing of how the sickness had gotten to him nor from where the doctors believed it might have been while he was on the ship heading toward Belgium on the North Sea. A foreign disease may have spread on deck and hit some of the passengers. This was a common theory for it has happened many times before.

They would not permit me to see him for they where afraid of me catching the unknown disease. Soon however I became too impatient and demanded to see him and could care less about my own health. Surprisingly they did nothing to stop me. They had most likely dealt with these situations before and knew how personal they become.

I sat by Charles side for a long time. When he had woken from a weak sleep He was astonished to see me and demanded to know why I had come such a far way, especially when pregnant.

I told him I had to come and that he had fallen deeply ill. Of course, as I know Charles to be, he gave out a weak smile and told me not to worry. Usually his lightheartedness would beat me in my nervous state but this time it did not.

Charles seemed to notice this and taking my hand he continued to reassure me that all would be ok.

But I knew that not to be true. As he lay on the hospital bed, he grew paler and weaker looking by the hour.

I feared for the worst.

It wasn't much long after until Charles' father arrived as well. He had not changed much. But I could tell he was struck down by the fact that his only son, who had always been healthy, could possibly be laying in a hospital bed defeated by a horrible unknown sickness which was slowly killing him.

Mr. Chagny and I sat by Charles side until the very end. Charles' father and I barley spoke a word to one another, but we both shared the same pain.

At one point Mr. Chagny asked me politely if he might speak to Charles alone for a few more minutes.

I didn't deny his request and so I left the room. As soon as the door closed behind me all of the emotion I had kept dormant within me exploded out and I found myself collapsed on the ground crying uncontrollably.

The hospital became a heavy dread to me. It was cold and dark and the noises about me enveloped my very senses. I wanted nothing more then to leave that terrible place but I didn't want to without Charles.

No matter what fantasy I placed myself in within my mind. No mater what my thoughts tried to reassure me of. I knew that I would be walking out of this hospital alone, back to my home, which seemed so faraway and so forlorn to me.

Pushing back all unhealthy and unrealistic thoughts, I continued to stay by Charles' side until the very end.

I told Charles' everything. I kissed him and held him and told him how much I loved him. But nothing could save him.

A week later I stood by Charles, only this time he did not lay in a hospital bed.

It was damp and cold outside, with the wind blowing coldly in our faces. There was no sun in the sky to be seen, only cold gloomy clouds hung overhead, bring down a light drizzle on our pale grown faces. It seemed fitting weather, for the sun was gone from the sky just as Charles, my light, was gone from my life and world.

A good crowd had come to morn Charles' death for many had known him. The famous pianist who had such a good young life, now taken away, snuffed out like a small flame.

Many of the people that came were people I had known or had become acquainted with. They gave me their prayers and there best wishes and then slowly they all dispersed into the bleak, foggy mist that shrouded us all, like a veil of darkness. I knew I would never see these people again. They'd become a blurred memory, a faint shadow within my mind. I too knew that they would forget me as well, just like they will forget Charles as soon as another idol came along to be perused.

Soon everyone had disappeared except for Charles' father and me.

We both had stared at the grave for sometime, both not able to come to terms to what had been put upon us. Charles' death would change both our lives, but in very different ways.

I was now a widow and my children were now without a father. I suppose it was fortunate that my sons were too young at the time to understand death, so it may be easier for them. For me, however, I was all too familiar with death's handiwork. From my mothers death when I was very young to my fathers death which had come very unexpectedly.

Now that Charles was gone I felt there was really nothing else to live for. There was no one left now except my children and me.

For Mr. Chagny though, I was not certain what he was going through now. He never said anything to me until Charles' death, which I think provoked us both to have to say something.

After Charles' death, we both agreed that the best place for him to be buried was right alongside his mother who was buried at a small cemetery on the outskirts of London.

Charles' father had always been a mystery to me since the first time I met him. As I continued to stand next to him, looking down at Charles' grave, with tears streaming down my face, he stood there silently with no remorse or grief etched on his face. He was, however, paler then usual and his eyes seemed to see nothing.

For what seemed like forever he finally moved, taking something out from within his dress coat pocket. In his hand were two beautiful dark crimson roses. Their lush, soft looking petals danced lightly as the breeze blew around them.

Mr. Chagny slowly crouched down by the two graves of his wife, Christine and his son, Charles and placed one rose on each of their graves.

I felt as if I were watching a historical event-taking place as if this gesture that Mr. Chagny made had great significance to something very great that took place long ago between him and his family.

I knew not why he placed the roses there, whether it was just the common way of his expression of morning or if there was something much more important behind it all. As if that very action had struck some cord in history and something inside me told me it would live on and perhaps even be repeated once again…

Charles' funeral was the last time I ever saw Charles' father. He told me that he would not stay in London any longer and that he planned to move back to his home country of France.

I didn't know nor understand why he planned this. I thought that perhaps it was because of Charles' death and he did not want to be reminded of it by staying here any longer.

I did not argue to him, for I knew it was not my choice. When my sons were first born he had come to visit them often for he was their grandfather and it was his right. Even though he was to have yet another grandchild, it did not seem to move his choice of leaving. I knew he would never visit again.

He gave me his best wishes and kissed me softly on the hand. He then left without another word.

I too finally left the cemetery. I did not wish to ever come back again for I knew it would bring out to many harsh memories. Before I left, I kissed Charles' grave and told him how much I loved him. I left the cemetery and never looked back even if something inside me felt compelled to.

Charles had been an amazing husband and father and I planned to do my best as a mother for not only my children but for him.

I continued to believe that my newly to come child was a daughter for I knew that I should be given that blessing for Charles' sake. I began to go to church daily, praying that the child would be ok.

When the birth came closer and closer to its due date I became a little more edgy then usual and much more irritated.

My servants had stayed with me even after Charles' death, which I was grateful for. They helped to prepare me for the birth by shrouding my room in darkness and setting candles instead of electrical lamps for I thought they were too bright and I had recently started to get bad headaches.

I forced them to place Charles' dog out in the garden for he had become a real nuisance. Bach would always be howling and wining for Charles not understanding that he wasn't coming back. The little beast had become even more stubborn then usual. He would not permit anyone to come near him and would bite and snap at anyone who did.

The dog was not the only one to become stubborn. Raymond also started having spontaneous fits. He had driven many of the servants mad for many days by not eating and rarely sleeping. For some time he did nothing but cry and wine. Neither the servants nor I could understand his actions, but it made the air within the house on edge where somewhere along the way someone would surely lose it.

I was the one mostly likely to do this and my housekeepers knew that very well. The pregnancy seemed to me for once, to be almost a burden, which I badly wanted off my shoulders. The only thing that gave me happiness was to know I was having a child, which I knew would be my first daughter.

Once I had her, I believed everything would go back to normal and things would become less hectic. On the days when I laid in my room I dreamed about better things to come. I saw my daughter, a beautiful well-mannered lady, sitting down at the table having tea parties with neighboring friends and stuffed bears and dolls wearing the loveliest gowns, while my sons played for her a duet on the piano.

These dreams of mine were the only things that kept me from losing my patience and temper. The headaches seemed to grow a little worse as time went on and the more I took to my room. But at times I came out to sit in the garden and drink some afternoon tea. My dear son Charles, who began to resemble my husband so much, would come at times and sit with me and, if he was behaving better, id let Raymond join as well.

It was a day very similar to that when it happened. I was sitting out in the garden alone this time when my water suddenly broke.

The midwife had come as soon as possible and from there they took me to my dark candlelit room.

The servants made everything ready and they kept my sons in there rooms to wait.

I was overcome with excitement and anxiousness until my new daughter had been born…


End file.
